Psychics in the White House
by ShawnLassiter56
Summary: A murder has been committed in DC, and Sam brings in an old friend to solve the case.
1. Katrina

**Disclaimer: I don't own Psych or The West Wing. This is post Deez Nups. I know that the combination is totally weird, but I had an idea, I'm bored, sick and have nothing better to do, so here it is.**

"Yesterday, at 2:53 P.M, a young woman was shot here in D.C. Her name was Katrina Harris. Age 27, daughter of Eileen and Chasten Harris. She was on the White House Communications staff. She was engaged, her fiancé is a man Christian Emerson. Neither Mr. Emerson or her parents are commenting at this time."

"C.J.!" Her name echoed through the press room.

"Okay, Steve?"

"Has the shooter been apprehended?"

"Not yet, but we're doing everything in our power to see that they are brought to justice."

"C.J.! C.J.!"

"Danny?"

"Do you have a ballistics report?"

"Not at this time. Chris?"

"Where was she?"

"On a walk with a friend, the friend got away, or at least, so we believe. No one has seen the friend since the incident. The police believe that the friend, whose name won't be released at this time, retreated on a long drive, something like that. The police are putting her on the back burner, for the time being. We'll cover the rest of this at the 2:00 briefing." C.J. walked out to the sound of her name being called.

"Carol, what do I have next?"

"Sam wants you to come to his office."

"Now?"

"Yeah, he said right when you finished the briefing."

"Okay, I'm on my way." She veered off toward the Deputy Communications Director's office. She almost collided with him.

"Oh, C.J., I was just looking for you."

"So I heard. What's going on?"

"I'll tell you in a second. How was the briefing?"

"Typical."

"Oh. Sounds fun."

"Yeah."

They came to his office. "C.J., I have an idea."

"A good one?"

"There's no way of telling this early, but hear me out. You know the whole thing with Katrina?"

"I just did a briefing about it."

"Okay, good. And you know how it's an incredibly evidence-less case?"

"I do now."

"Yes, you do. Anyway, I think I know someone who should be brought onto it."

"Sam, that's not our job. That's up to the Police, you know that."

"I know, I know, but I know this guy. He works for the Santa Barbara police department. He's a...well, he's a psychic."

C.J. snorted. "And you believe that?"

"I didn't at first, until I looked at his record. He's solved hundreds of cases; he hasn't let a killer go free yet. He specializes in cases with little to no evidence; he would be perfect for this."

"Did you know her well?"

"Who?"

"Katrina."

"We weren't close, but I worked with her a lot."

"Do you think she would like a psychic working on her case?"

"Yeah."

"Then I say, go for it. How do you know him?"

"Friend of a friend."

"What's his name?"

"Shawn Spencer."

"And he claims to be a psychic?"

"Yeah."

"If you really think he's right for this case, talk to the Police; see if they'll fly him down."

"I will. Katrina deserves this. Oh, and C.J.?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks."

O00oo00oo00O

**An Hour Later, at the SBPD...**

"Carlton?" Juliet called from her desk. "You won't believe who's on the phone."

"If it's Santa Claus, I'm not here. I owe him some money..."

"Carlton, it's Sam Seaborn, the Deputy White House Communications Director. He says he knows Shawn."

"Spencer?"

"Yes, he wants to talk to you."

Carlton reached out and snatched the phone. "Listen, punk, I'm the Head Detective of the SBPD, you shouldn't waste my time. I don't tolerate silly, pointless phone calls from jerks like you who have too much time on their hands. Who are you, really?"

"I'm Sam Seaborn. You're Carlton Lassiter?"

"Yes, I am. Tell me your real name, I _will_ track this call!"

"Detective Lassiter, you absolutely have a right to be suspicious, but I guarantee that I _am_, in fact, Sam Seaborn. Please remember, I work for the President, and can cause a lot of trouble."

"Okay, whatever." Carlton grumbled. "What do you want?"

"I want to know about Shawn Spencer."

"Jackass, about 5'10, is never seen without his sidekick."

"No, I mean is he good?"

"For a fake."

"Whether he's a fake is neither here nor there. There was recently a murder here in D.C., a friend of mine, and I would like to fly a few people out here to help with the case."

"Who did you have in mind?"

"I'm going to need you, Detective Juliet O'Hara, Burton Guster, and Shawn. All of your expenses will be paid until the case is solves, then we'll send you back home. It's simple, really. Should I fax over the tickets?"

"I'll get back to you." He hung up. "O'Hara, call Psych."


	2. Offices and Airports

**Disclaimer: I don't own Psych or The West Wing.**

"Donna!' Josh yelled from behind his desk. His voice was starting to get sore from all the yelling, but it was so much more fun than using his intercom.

"What?" She appeared at his door, arms folded.

"Do you believe in psychics?"

"You're the second person to ask me that today. What's going on?"

"You didn't answer my question."

"You didn't answer mine."

"You work for me, you know."

"That's really a matter of opinion."

"Donnatella Moss, do you believe in psychics?"

She sighed. "Some."

"Have you ever heard of Shawn Spencer?"

"I've read about him. His record is really impressive. Why?"

"No reason."

"Josh, you can't just ask me questions and refuse to tell me why!"

"I believe I can."

"Shut up!"

"Go type, or something."

She stomped off, but he knew she was smiling. She crashed into Sam in her "rage".

"Oh my god. Are you okay?"

"Yeah. Did Josh mention psychics?"

She rolled her eyes. "What the hell is going on around here?"

"Nothing."

"Ugh!" She walked away.

Sam continued on, only to run into Ginger.

"Ginger! Are you okay?"

"Yeah, fine. Carlton Lassiter's calling. Says he's with the SBPD?"

"Patch him through." He instructed as he walked into his office. The phone rang.

"Sam Seaborn."

"Detective Lassiter. When do you want us there?"

"At your earliest possible convenience."

"Tomorrow's okay?"

"Tomorrow's fine. I'll have my assistant fax the tickets over."

"Fine. We'll be there tomorrow."

"Yeah." He hung up. "Bonnie, I need four tickets from Santa Barbara, California to D.C, direct flight if you can, for tomorrow. Oh, and tell C.J. that the psychic's coming. She'll know what it means." She nodded and walked off.

O00oo00oo00O

**The next day, on the plane...**

"Shawn, can you believe this?"

"Gus, I believed it the last time you asked, why do you think something's changed?"

"I'm sorry if I'm excited, but we're going to the White House. We were personally requested by Sam Seaborn. This is a big moment for Psych!"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. Ooh, ooh, we're landing!"

"Good, you're excited!"

"No, I just like landing."

"You're an idiot."

"I know you are, but what am I?"

"Shawn—"

"Guys!" Jules screeched, yanking out her ear buds in disgust. "We're in the capital of America, solving a murder for the White House. Can you act like grownups for once?"

"Yes, Jules." Shawn muttered.

"We have just touched down in Dulles International Airport. Welcome to Washington, D.C, where it is 8:00 and 68 degrees."

A few minutes later, they entered the airport.

"I can't believe I'm on vacation with you people." Carlton grumbled.

"Lassie, this is hardly a vacation. We're investigating a murder. It's business."

"Oh, says the fake psychic detective."

The bickerers were interrupted by a young man with a wire in his ear. "Are you Shawn Spencer?"

"Yes, I most certainly am."

"These are your colleagues?"

"Absolutely."

"Please come with me."

Juliet spoke up. "Where are you taking us?"

"The White House."


	3. A Pineapple for the Spirits

**Disclaimer: I don't own The West Wing or Psych.**

"You hired a psychic?!" Toby screamed. "On the taxpayer's dime, you hired a goddamn psychic! Sam, these are hard working people who are paying for your stupid superstitions!"

"Toby—"

"I'm not done. You didn't consult me, you didn't consult Leo, and you didn't even mention it to the President! What made you think that we wouldn't object?"

"You knew Katrina; you wouldn't hire someone if you thought they could find the person that killed her?"

"Don't bring Katrina into this." Toby said quietly.

"Why not? That's what this is about. This is about avenging an innocent woman's death."

"You're just in your own little Gilbert and Sullivan play over there, aren't you?"

"Toby, listen—"

"No, Sam, I won't listen, because you hired a damn psychic—"

Shawn appeared at the office. "I heard psychic, am I needed?"

Toby rolled his eyes. "Are you Shawn Spencer?"

"Yes, sir."

"Shawn, you can go wait in my office. I'm right behind you. Ginger'll show you." Sam said. Shawn nodded and followed Ginger.

Sam turned to Toby. "Toby, please be nice. We need his help. He's the only one with a chance of saving Katrina's legacy."

"And there you go again, Mr. Avenging-Legacy-saver."

"Look, Toby, I'm just trying to do something about the fact that my friend was just murdered, helping is how I cope, say whatever the hell you want." Sam stormed out. His friend was just murdered, and all anyone was doing was yelling at him.

"Mr. Spencer, welcome to D.C! How has everything been so far?"

"Cold. I hear there's been a murder?"

"Yes, a woman named Katrina Harris was murdered a few days ago."

"Shot?"

"Yeah."

"With a 32 rifle, am I right?" The "psychic" said, noticing a ballistics report on Sam's desk.

"How did you know that?" Shawn motioned to his temple. "Oh, yes, of course. That's quite impressive."

Shawn grinned. "Thank you. It's all right to gape in awe; I have that effect on people. Maybe it's the incredible psychic ability; maybe it's just the hair. Who knows?"

"Um, okay. Do you have questions before you start looking around?"

"Yes. Do you have a pineapple I could use?"

"I can get one. You need a pineapple?"

"The spirits are hungry."

"Um...alright. I'll send out for one."

"Okay, can you take me to her desk?"

"Yes, sir, follow me."

They wove through the sea of cubicles before they reached Katrina's empty one. It hadn't been cleared out yet, no one had the heart to, but there was an air of finality in there, like it knew its rightful owner would never return.

There were a few pictures pinned up. In one of her at a party, Shawn noticed a ring on her finger. "I'm getting, I'm getting...rind! No...ring! An engagement ring! Was Ms. Harris engaged?"

Sam blinked. "Wow. Yeah, she was. To a guy named—"

"Christian Emerson." Shawn intoned, noticing doodling of "Mrs. Christian Emerson" in the margins of an open notebook on her desk.

"Yes. You're...you're pretty amazing. What are your colleagues up to?"

"Gus is at the hotel spa, Lassie is at the hotel bar, Juliet's out sightseeing. I can track them down if you need them."

"That would be great. Can you all be here in an hour?"

"We'll be back. The pineapples should be awaiting our arrival." With that, Shawn turned on his heel and flounced away, leaving Sam rather flustered. He had expected eccentric, the man was a psychic, but Shawn was...very odd.

Oh, yeah. "Bonnie, I'm going to need a pineapple in an hour."

O00oo00oo00O

"Did Sam really hire a psychic?"

"Donna, don't you have something to be doing other than bothering me?"

"Nope, I'm on my lunch break."

"And you're using your lunch break to bother me about Sam and a psychic?"

"Yes, 'cause that's what friends do, Josh."

"Okay, fine, he hired Shawn Spencer."

"Really?"

"No, I'm just fooling. I have nothing better to do than make up psychics."

"Ha ha, you're hilarious."

"So I've been told."

"Has he met Shawn yet?"

"Um, yeah. He came in earlier, he's gonna be back in a few minutes."

"Is he cute in real life?"

"What?"

"I asked if he was cute in real life. He looked really cute in the paper."

"Yes, actually, Sam described his chiseled jaw and piercing eyes in great detail."

"You're being sarcastic again, aren't you?"

"I most certainly am."

"Fine. My break's over."

"Donna, wait. Don't go after Shawn. I think he has a girlfriend, a detective that's with him. Her name's Juliet O'Hara. Try not to flirt with a trained killer's boyfriend in front of her, will you?"

"Aw, you're worried about me!"

"Donna!"

"I'll try not to."

"It's all I ask."

"That's so sweet that you were worried about me!"

"Donna, get back to work."


	4. Panic, Call Girls and a Kidnapping

**Disclaimer: I don't own Psych or The West Wing.**

"You requested a pineapple? You went to the White House, met

with a member of Senior Staff, and you requested a pineapple. Are you out of your damn mind?"

"Gus, don't be a manic depressed parakeet. It was casual, it was normal. Relax, buddy." Shawn soothed his friend.

Gus had been freaking out since they landed, more than usual. He idealized the President and his Senior Staff, and he studied them and knew a very scary amount about them. Maybe he was afraid that his idea of them would be shattered upon meeting, that they wouldn't live up to his expectations. Or maybe, it was just his typical getting-all-weird-around-power thing. No one knew.

"Guster, stop freaking out. You're going to embarrass us."

"Carlton, Gus is just a little star-struck about the whole thing, be nice."

"Guys, we're here." Gus said, hyperventilating a little.

"Breathe." Jules whispered.

They entered the building. After an unbelievable amount of security checking, they made their way to Sam's office.

"Oh, I almost forgot. No one mention prostitutes, especially call girls. Sam accidentally slept with one, it's a sensitive subject." Gus piped.

Shawn rolled his eyes. "Why the hell do you know that?"

Gus shrugged. "I read."

"We weren't going to mention call girls, anyway." They came into Sam's office. "Mr. Seaborn, Ms. Harris was a call girl." Gus just face palmed.

Sam looked up from his computer, surprised. "Why do you think that?"

"A variety of things. Exhibit A: her closet. I stopped by her apartment, the cops let me in, and her closet looks like a call girl's closet. Excessive lingerie, lots of evening gowns, that kind of thing. Exhibit B: she had about 50 business cards for Cashmere Escorts. Are you familiar with it?"

"Why would I be?"

"Because you slept with a girl that works there, Laurie, A.K.A Brittany Rollins. I looked her up, saw a few pictures; there were pictures of her Laurie her wall. They were at some kind of party, probably undercover as Brittany and Stacie, Katrina's alter ego."

"She was engaged, though."

"I never said she liked being a call girl. She had a dying mother, who was alone, and needed money. Ms. Harris sent her mother all the money she earned through Cashmere Escorts, and she paid for her mother's medical care. She's the reason her mother's still alive. Her fiancé was always busy, he didn't even notice all the unexplained nights out, too oblivious, I suppose.

"She was on a job when she was murdered. The friend she was with, that was Laurie. But they weren't alone. They were with two men who had ordered them for the night. I believe they had some beef against the girls, one of them might have slept with a friend and having relations with a call girl ruined his career, something like that. They waited until they were out, somewhere dark and secluded. Then, they shot Ms. Harris and took Laurie somewhere. Has anyone heard from her?" Sam shook his head slowly. "Then call the DCPD. We've got a kidnapping."


	5. Finding Laurie

**Disclaimer: I don't own Psych or The West Wing.**

"Is there a Laurie Rollins here?" Sam said to a nurse. Laurie had been found, floating unconscious, in a lake, she was lucky to be alive. According to the DCPD, she had just been checked in at G.W.

"Yeah. Are you Sam Seaborn?" He nodded. "She said to let you right up. Room 14B, 2nd floor."

"Thank you." He raced up the stairs. He couldn't believe the police hadn't considered, that _he_ hadn't considered, that Katrina's friend was kidnapped. He also couldn't believe that he was so out of touch with Laurie that he didn't even notice that she missing. He was a horrible friend, he had a lot of nerve even coming to see her. Wait—didn't the nurse say that Laurie had specifically mentioned him? Uh-oh. What if she was mad? Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned, and she was certainly scorned.

"Sam!" She cried when he walked into her room. "Oh my god, come here!" He ran over and held her. She was in tears, her face swollen and red.

"Laurie, baby, shh. It's okay, I got you. I got you." She shook in his arms.

"They...tried...to...kill...me! They...killed...Katrina!" She sobbed.

"You're okay now. No one can hurt you now. It's okay."

She was hysterical for about 20 minutes, and who could blame her? A dear friend of hers was dead, and she was somewhere near dead.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to...cry so long, I just, you know, missed you."

He took her hand. "It's really fine; you have every right to be upset. I swear the DCPD is doing everything possible, working day and night, to find the killers."

"Thank you, I believe you, but it still scares me that they're out there. You know?"

He nodded. "I know. I promise, they're doing their best."

"Okay, thanks."

"If you're anxious, I can get a guard at your door. It's no trouble, really."

"That would be great."

"I'll go make the call. I'll be right back."

He jogged out of the room, leaving Laurie shivering and hiccupping.

O00oo00oo00O

"Can you believe they fished that tramp out?"

"I'm almost glad they did. If they catch us, attempted murder is at least a little better than 1st degree murder, you know?"

"We won't get caught, so why does it matter?" Famous last words.

Suddenly, there was a sweeping light and a booming voice. "Come out of the house with your hands up. You're surrounded."

O00oo00oo00O

"Sam, did they catch them?" Laurie asked, her eyes pleading for a yes.

"Yeah, about an hour ago. They're gonna be away for long time."

She threw her arms around him. "Oh, thank god!"

Sam smiled a little. "Yeah. Are you coming to Katrina's funeral?"

"They won't let me out."

"Why?"

"I was pretty much dead a few days ago."

"Ah, I see."


	6. Goodbye, DC

**Disclaimer: I don't own Psych or The West Wing.**

"So, you're a psychic! That must be interesting." Donna said to Shawn. She had decided that he was, indeed, as cute as he looked in the paper, and was ignoring Josh's sentiments.

"It is. It's a confusing business, you see, because it's really dependent on the spirits. Sometimes, they're real sweethearts, and give me everything I need. Other times, they get kind of stingy."

Donna nodded, drinking in everything he said. "Wow, that's amazing! Do you have any, you know, 'spirit war stories'?" He looked at her inquisitively. "Stories about fighting the spirits." She clarified.

"Ah, yes. It was the summer of '02—"

"Donna!" Josh squawked from his office. "I need some numbers."

"What kind of numbers?"

Josh rolled his eyes. He was desperate to get Donna away from the womanizing douche bag that is Shawn Spencer. "Just get in here!" He hollered.

He couldn't believe Spencer's nerve. Flirting shamelessly with Donna, _his_ Donna, right outside his office. If there was one thing she didn't need, it was another Dr. Freeride. He also had a rather pressing question.

"What?"

"Donna, have you seen Charlie and that Burton Guster guy in the same room together?"

She closed her eyes and tilted her head. "Um...no, I guess not. Why?"

He shook his head. "Oh, no reason."

"I'm gonna get back to work." A.K.A Shawn.

"Okay, go ahead." Josh sighed. Donna's a grown woman, she can do what she wants, he thought to himself. But she had been right earlier. He was worried about her.

O00oo00oo00O

"How's Loretta?"

"Laurie." Sam corrected Shawn. "And she's okay. She's emotionally scarred, more than anything else."

"Of course, of course."

"When do you leave?"

"Our plane takes off at 6 tonight."

"Yeah. Well, thanks for everything. You guys were really helpful."

"We do what we do, Sam. It comes naturally."

"Can I show you out?"

"I actually have one last thing to do." Shawn jogged to Donna's desk. "Donna."

"Shawn, hi! Are you leaving?"

"Not yet, I just wanted to goodbye, you know. Can I give you my phone number?"

She averted her eyes. "Sorry, I'm just, you know, so busy and all, I don't think I would have time."

"Oh. Um, okay. See ya."

Josh stood in his doorway, watching Donna in awe. "Donnatella, I'm shocked."

"Don't be, Joshua. He's a jerk. An egotistical, goof-off jerk. Besides, I have my eye on something much more interesting." She flipped her hair and returned to typing, a smug little grin on her face. This left Josh to wander back to his desk, dumbfounded. Just when he thought he had Donna figured out, she threw him a curveball.

O00oo00oo00O

Jules smiled at Gus as they boarded the plane. "Did it live up to your expectations?"

He grinned back. "Above and beyond. Best. Case. Ever!"

She glanced over his shoulder at a skulking Shawn. "What's up with him?"

"He got rejected by Josh Lyman's assistant, Donna. He'll be fine. Where's Lassie?"

Juliet pointed a few yards to their left. Carlton was grinning, whistling and on the verge of skipping. It was unsettling. "He made _very_ good friends with the Press Secretary."

"CJ Cregg?"

"Apparently."

"I didn't see that one coming."

"Yeah, well, life is full of surprises."

They took their seats. As takeoff began, Gus looked out over the landing strip and sighed, followed by a highly clichéd, "Goodbye, DC. I'll never forget you."


End file.
